


Electric Six

by williamastankova



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 'pretending', Bisexual Steve Rogers, Dancing, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Gay Bar, Holding Hands, M/M, Making Out, POV Steve Rogers, Pretending to Be Gay, Steve Rogers Can't Dance, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Undercover, Undercover As Gay, Undercover Missions, Undercover as a Couple, etc etc - Freeform, yknow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22376434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: Steve and Bucky go undercover as a gay couple to complete a mission.I'm sure you know where this is headed.(inspired by a prompt from my Tumblr asks, sent by @drtyuworld. thanks so much!!)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 152





	Electric Six

This is strange. In more ways than one, Steve feels out of place, like he's doing something he shouldn't, that he's never done before and wouldn't do again. 

Firstly, he's on a mission without his armour on. His shield isn't too far away, kept safe with Sam who's tailing them loosely somewhere, but it's hardly like he can take it in with him, into a night-club, acting like nothing's amiss. Secondly, he's agreed to go undercover on a mission with Bucky, in which they've got to pretend to be, well...

"You fellas gay?"

Admittedly, it's one of the strangest questions he's ever been asked when entering a club. Not that he's ever really been to a club, mind, considering he's technically from the Conservative 40s, and basically all of his time in the modern era has been spent working for SHIELD and the Avengers, trying to rid the world of evil. So yeah, it's fair to say he doesn't go out that much.

"Yeah," Bucky answers for the two of them, plain and simple. They figured it wouldn't be so hard, considering they've been friends for so long now, been through so much together. They'd each agreed to play into the gay thing just a little, enough to get them into the club and close to their target, a predatory super-villain that intel had indicated would be here, on this very night. Weird pick.

The bouncer eyes them up for a second, looking unconvinced. Seeing this, Bucky reaches over and interlaces his fingers with Steve's. The man's hands are warm - no, not just warm, almost on fire, probably because of his rather heavy choice of clothes. The man waves them in.

They slip past without another issue, and head straight for the bar, trying to play it cool.

"Is this what people do in these sorts of places?" He murmurs to Bucky as they move as quickly as they can through the swarming sea of people. He doesn't mention that they're still holding hands, and this fact is made redundant seconds later as they part.

"What, drink?" Bucky chuckles, taking his seat on a stool at the neon-coloured bar, Steve following suit shortly after, "Yeah, Steve. I haven't been to many of these places, I'll admit, but I think drinking is pretty basic for any bar, even seventy years on."

Steve's about to quip that this isn't just a _bar_ , that this is something more. It's not like the bars Bucky used to drag him to, not where the women would swarm around him, practically tearing off Bucky's shirt, only acknowledging Steve if Bucky remembered to mention him. If not, he was always pushed to the side, leaving him drinking awkwardly before he finally realised Bucky wasn't thinking of him anymore and took himself home.

Suddenly, just as Steve's about to speak, a man appears before them - the bartender, he realises - and asks them what they want to drink.

"Uh, can I get a-" Steve begins, but he's soon cut off by Bucky, who talks like lightning.

"Two vodka and cokes," he tells the man, who pulls his eyes from Steve, casting his gaze over to Bucky instead. Bucky gives him a tight smile, "Thanks."

"Sure thing," the man nods to Bucky, then looks back at Steve, grinning at him and winking, "Coming right up."

The bartender promptly leaves, giving Bucky and Steve time to talk about their task. They clarify what the target looks like, what signs they're looking out for, what counts as suspicious behaviour and what doesn't. By the time their drinks finally get back to them (Steve's not sure how long that takes, too involved in his conversation with Bucky), he's almost entirely blocked out the booming music of the club.

"Here you go, you two," the man comes back, as chipper as ever, and hands them three drinks, two vaguely brown ones and an electric blue one.

"Hey," Steve calls him back just as he turns to leave. He points at the latter drink, "We didn't order this one."

"Oh, I know," the bartender responds nonchalantly, nodding over across the other side of the bar, "It's from that gentleman over there."

The man, of average build, regards Steve with raised eyebrows and his glass in the air, as though to cheers him. Steve can already feel his face flushing a vibrant cherry colour, and it's only when Bucky's hand lands upon his neck that he comes back to himself, forces himself to open his eyes.

Bucky waves sardonically at the man as he runs a thumb across the back of Steve's neck, and Steve thinks this can't be right. This can't be happening. Is Bucky really... caressing him right now? Well, he knows they're on a case, that they need to be convincing as a gay couple, but still, there's something so fluid, so natural about the motion, even he's convinced they've been doing it forever.

Just as the wheel turns, however, he forces himself to get to the task at hand. Bucky's touch fades, and Steve realises soon after that he's finally removed his fingers from his neck. Steve suppresses a shiver, feeling a deep-rooted coldness up his spine at the absence.

He turns his attention to the crowd, all sweaty and mingling, somehow incomparably alive, booming with life, and completely dead at the same time. From just a quick scan, he can see three men basically comatose within the pumping dance group on the colourful floor. No wonder the villain chose this place as his way to pick up a victim, Steve thinks: they're all so horrifically far gone.

Trying to keep a hold on his judgement and pity, he returns to Bucky, who he finds sipping his drink and looking straight ahead. 

"Hey," Steve whispers to him, making Bucky's glance shift over to him. He gestures to Bucky's rapidly deteriorating drink, "Try to slow it down, alright? You can't be getting drunk on the job."

Though his message is serious, he tries to play it up a little into a joke to make Bucky laugh. No such luck, apparently; Bucky denies him the luxury of hearing his deep, jolly chuckle as he opts instead for a quick grunt of acknowledgement, then excuses himself to the bathroom. Well, he thinks, so much for sticking together.

Steve just stays seated, so that Bucky knows where to find him when he comes back. Within thirty seconds, though, he's got company, and he knows from the speed and vivacity of the movement, it's not Bucky returning.

"Hi there," a small man speaks beside him. He's got to be 5"5 or 5"6, well-built and certainly not _unattractive_ , certainly cocky and with an attitude that both fills Steve with dread and makes him intrigued - but no, not like _that_. "I just saw you and knew I'd kick myself for the rest of my life if I didn't at least _try_ and talk to you."

Steve nods cautiously, still holding the man's eye, unwilling to give him more than is absolutely necessary. He doesn't want to be rude, but he has a job to do.

"Derek," the man says after a moment of silence, stretching out a hand to shake Steve's. Reluctantly, Steve does so, but quickly pulls it back to his side and vows to keep it there. "I own this place."

This new information makes Steve's ears perk up. Derek, the bar owner? Not that he's heard of him before, mind, but there's perhaps some use in getting to know the manager, especially if there's a high probability he'll be cooking up a storm in here later. He just hopes his casual clothes help him keep a low profile, so the man doesn't out him as being Captain America before he's even gotten started.

"Not much of a talker, eh?" Derek laughs, then it gets cut off short. He leans in a little closer to Steve, who stays solid and motionless as a statue. "If I can, I just wanna tell you something: you and your friend, the pretty dark one that was here before. I'm not too sure I believe you guys are... well, you know. I just get the vibe you're two straight dudes looking for some free drinks from desperate gay guys. I hope you prove me wrong, though, I really do."

The sinister tone sweeps over them like a harsh breeze at the beach. Steve suddenly sits up straighter, jaw clenching, not sure how to react. Just at the right time, just as Steve's considering blowing their whole operation to stop the man doing _that_ , Bucky comes back.

"Hey, babe," he says, the pet-name slipping from his tongue as easy as Sunday morning, and he kisses Steve on the side of the head. He's tied his hair half-up while he was in the bathroom, Steve remarks fondly. It looks nice. "Let's go."

Steve only shoots a false-apologetic look at Derek before he lets Bucky whisk him off, arm around his waist, onto the dance floor. He's about to mention that he left his drink, but then he decides he doesn't really want it that badly anyway. He'd like to be sober from now on, just to be safe.

"What was that?" Bucky says as they come to stop a considerable distance from Derek and the bar, in what Steve presumes is the middle of the crowded dance-floor, though he's been wrong before, "Who was that guy?"

"Not our guy," Steve shakes his head, following Bucky's train of thought. "Just the manager. We've gotta be careful, though, Buck; he's onto us. Knows we aren't a couple."

Bucky hums, seemingly deep in thought, then looks pointedly at Steve, almost like he's looking through him, and orders, "Dance."

"What?"

"We look weird. We're stood in the middle of a dance floor, completely still," he explains, then repeats, "Dance."

Steve doesn't need to be told for a third time, so he starts gently swaying to the music. Well, he tries to, only it's actually _much_ harder than it looks, and without more than a third of a drink in him, he feels stiff and uncomfortable. There's a reason why he never did this, he thinks as he accidentally bumps into one of the guys from the group next to him.

"No, Steve, just-" Bucky apparently considers using words to correct him, but soon abandons all hope for that idea and just grabs Steve by the waist, tugging him closer with impressive strength. It takes sincere effort on Steve's part not to go tumbling into Bucky. He doesn't.

As natural as the grass and air, Bucky begins to move the two of them in sync, and despite his nervousness at being so close to Bucky for such a prolonged amount of time, Steve actually thinks he starts to get it. He goes to tell Bucky he can drop his hands now, but he reconsiders. After all, the pressure at his sides _is_ rather nice, and without Bucky's guidance, he might just fall back into his old embarrassing technique. Above all, he concludes, it'll help convince Derek they're actually together, seeing as friends don't do this sort of stuff. Do they?

"Easy, there," Bucky's voice seems to have dropped, all quiet and low, sultry is almost the word - sinful, maybe - as he speaks, only to Steve. "Stop thinking so much, Steve."

The way Bucky's voice rings in his ears, Steve's convinced there's more than one of him. The wonderful cacophony fills his ears as he turns his head to properly face Bucky, closer than he'd anticipated, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he witnesses the darkness in Bucky's eyes.

It's not the kind he's seen there before. It doesn't look like he wants to kill Steve, but it's without a doubt dangerous. He neglects breathing for a moment in favour of just staring, watching the mystical grey whirlpools spin about in Bucky's eyes as the other man watches him right back. It's almost like they aren't on a mission, almost like there's no job, like they're really just here together, alone...

But they aren't, he has to remind himself. They have a job to do, have to be on constant look-out. He knows if somebody goes missing, if that villain gets another pawn he'll never forgive himself. They fight for the innocent, try to save as many lives as they can.

Even still, there's still that look on Bucky's face like he wants to devour Steve whole, ravish him then and there on the dance floor, and his hands are still burning at his waist, possibly applying more pressure but Steve can't quite tell. Bucky's a strangely good actor, he thinks, because even he's getting convinced that Bucky desires more from him than just a friendship, but that's not right. It can't-

Oh. Something shifts in his belly; Bucky's looking at his lips now. Steve's automatic breathing kicks in again, having been restrained for too long, and just in time, too. Before he knows it, before he can even fathom what's going on, Bucky's got his lips pressed to his. _Oh._

They shouldn't be doing this. It's wrong to kiss your friend. Isn't it? Every ingrained, innate rule tells him it is. His conscience is screaming at him to stop, to push Bucky off and make some excuse about going to the bathroom or back to the bar or something. But then, he doesn't want to make a scene, does he? And couples (which is the role they're meant to be playing) kiss - often, in fact - so maybe he should just give into that one, lone voice and just let it happen.

He does. He shuts off basically his entire brain except the section that encourages this, that tells him to let Bucky do this, to kiss him like he really means it, and it makes him think that maybe, just maybe, he really does.

Bucky switches his hand position, instead wrapping his whole right arm around Steve's taut waist, pulling their chests flush together, and using the other hand to gently brush the left side of the other man's face, in a way that's almost adoring. Just almost.

Their mouths, in the least cliché, cheesy way possible, seem made for each other. They mould like clay cast down by the gods, a gift to humanity, a physical embodiment of the praise received for their good deeds. Finally, Steve thinks, a reward he can get behind. Though, in conflict, surely anything that feels _this_ good - that feels how Bucky's lips feel on his, how the other man's hair feels between his fingers, all fine and soft and perfect - must be something sinful. He dares not question it.

When they finally separate, he finds he can't wipe the toothy grin from his face. He feels overjoyed, which is something he just might come to regret if that was really all just for an act. Something about the passion behind the kiss alerts him that it wasn't, though. Who knows.

"Well," Bucky's dark, rich chuckle follows this word, music to Steve's ears, "What do you think?"

"I think," Steve ponders, finally casting his eyes away from Bucky, staring behind the man's head for just a split second, then duty overtakes him as he quickly nods, "I think that's our guy."

Bucky's head immediately swivels around, eyes locking on the target. He makes a sound, slinking away from Steve. There's no embarrassment in the motion, though, no inclination that he regrets what just happened, merely that business calls, and he's got to take this very, very seriously. As does Steve.

Before they go, though, and chase after yet another bad guy, Bucky grasps his arm at the elbow, looking him in the eyes and inquires, "Continue this later, in the bathrooms?"

It's hardly the most romantic proposal Steve's ever heard, but he nods enthusiastically nonetheless. Anything of that nature with Bucky sounds perfect right about now, right after their job is done and they're free to do whatever. They might as well have some fun while they're here, he thinks; they did pay their way in, after all. Better make some use of it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel free to let me know what you thought & send me any prompts you have over at my tumblr, @samaraclegane! love love love these two. :)


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